


Out of the Mouth of Babes

by theleafpile



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Everybody loves Trixie Decker, Except Lucifer, Gen, Post 3x01, my sweet slytherin child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleafpile/pseuds/theleafpile
Summary: Chloe pops by Lucifer's penthouse with Trixie, who sees something her mother cannot.





	Out of the Mouth of Babes

Chloe, against her much better judgement, relented in Lucifer’s request to pick him up that afternoon, grumbling something about transmissions that resulted, inevitably, in his car being stuck at the shop. It was out of convenience, not revenge (she told herself) that she decided picking Trixie up from school along the way would be the best option, and together they could drop her back off at the house before heading to the precinct to gather the latest intel on what was turning out to be an aggravatingly simple case. 

When Chloe had begun to view such open-and-shut cases as “annoying,” she could not be sure, but was certain it had something to do with Lucifer’s incessant whining and bailing until she “got a case with a pulse.”

To be fair, she was fairly used to him bailing by now. 

She corralled Trixie into the elevator with minimal interference, the child more than happy to see “Lucifer’s house” and explore someplace new. 

Chloe prayed – honest to God, prayed – that Lucifer knowing she was on her way resulted in him being fully clothed and alone, but it was never truly a given. 

Trixie prattled on, mile a minute, about the coolness of the elevator buttons, the warm, yellow light behind them, and grinned hugely at the “ding!” as the doors opened, announcing their arrival. Before Chloe’s hand could reach for her child’s shoulder, Trixie ducked out of the way and ran into the penthouse, wide eyes taking in the kid-unfriendly apartment like it was a spaceship to Mars. 

“Lucifer, we’re here,” Chloe called out, directing her attention as she strode inside toward the empty bedroom. 

“We?” came the incredulous reply, and Chloe rolled her eyes, catching her child heading toward the balcony.

“Trixie, stay inside,” she warned, and the child turned on her heel, skipping back toward the piano at her mother’s gesture. 

“I am more than happy to accommodate any guests, detective,” said Lucifer, appearing from behind the wall, fiddling with a cufflink, and managing to make all the words sound much lewder than she would appreciate with her child present. Trixie sprung up from the piano bench, where her hands hovered over the keys, at the sound of his voice, and took a few steps forward as he looked up, at the top of the stairs.

Catching sight of the child, he braced for impact, but none came. 

Trixie had skidded to a stop, tilting her head in curiosity.

Lucifer slowly opened an eye at the lack of contact, relaxing when he saw her still. Trixie, her mouth open, snapped it shut as Lucifer breezed past the two of them, heading toward the elevator. With an impatient huff, he jammed his thumb against the button, muttering about the “incredible fecundity of the human race.” 

Or something. 

Trixie followed, standing a few feet behind his back. Chloe watched, unsure of what was going on in her child’s mind and why she had not greeted her partner with the usual bone-crushing hug - she didn't even know that Lucifer had been missing - when she stifled a smile.

Trixie jutted out a hip and set her fist upon it, glaring at Lucifer’s back until he spun around to face her. In what could only be described as a chillingly adult tone, Trixie asked: “What happened?”

Lucifer looked down his nose at her, then to the detective, then back to the child. “Nothing, child.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow. Chloe took a few steps forward to Lucifer’s side and mirrored his confused look. 

The elevator doors opened and Lucifer made to take a step backwards when Trixie sighed. “They’re really pretty. You shouldn’t be mean to them.”

Lucifer was fairly certain his heart dropped into his stomach. Chloe looked into his face and, seeing the mix of guilt and anger that only Lucifer could pull off, decided to intervene. “Trix, babe, we’re going to be late. Let’s go,” she finished, sweeping a hand into the elevator. Both children in her life stayed firm. 

“What do you want?” he asked, and Chloe’s eyes darted between the two, certain they much be having some sort of telepathic conversation. 

“Hello?” she drew out. “We’re kind of on a timeline here.”

“A feather,” Trixie answered easily, pushing between the two of them and into the elevator.

“A feather?” asked Lucifer, incredulous, following suit. Chloe shook her head, apparently forgotten, and entered alongside them.

“Yep.”

Lucifer stood still, staring, and Chloe reached around him to push the button. “Unfortunately, child, that’s something –”

“A feather, or I tell Mommy,” Trixie interrupted. 

“Tell me what?” Chloe asked, feeling much more intrusive than she had reason to be, though the way Trixie and Lucifer were staring down one another had her senses prickling, like static electricity on her skin, making her hair stand on end.

“You have no right,” he warned her.

Trixie didn’t flinch, and Chloe had to give her credit for that. 

As the elevator doors opened, Chloe strode out, expecting to hear them trailing behind her. Instead she was met with silence, then turned in time to watch the doors close on the two, still locked in a staring contest.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, jogging forward to catch the door, but it was too late. “Lucifer!” she called out, smacking a hand flat on the door. She waited another moment, allowing the two of them to make the right decision – which they, of course, did not – before thumbing the button to open the door. 

As it reopened, Lucifer was shrugging his shoulders back, looking entirely too flummoxed and put out, and Trixie strode out, holding a glittering, white feather as long as her arm up in triumph, waving it in the air.

“Your child is a hellion,” spat Lucifer, passing Chloe as he brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket. Trixie’s smile lit up, nearly as bright as the feather, and rushed behind Lucifer to follow.

Chloe watched them leave, taking one last, long look in the elevator, really hoping that the feather wasn’t part of some – 

“Detective!” came the inevitable, impatient cry of her unseen partner, followed by Trixie’s laugh. Chloe marched to catch up, opening the door to the garage just in time to catch Trixie skipping behind Lucifer, laughing mercilessly as she brushed the tip of the feather across the back of his neck. He slapped the spot, then groaned at hurting himself, with such a complete look of fury on his face that Chloe didn’t even bother trying to stifle a laugh. 

Children, indeed.


End file.
